


Thrones, Dominations

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Hunger Games Victors, M/M, Prostitution, The Capitol (Hunger Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: Angelus is typical among the District 1 Victors: golden, beautiful, charming. After winning his Games at the age of 17, he went on to mentor the next year's Victor, a girl who managed to coast through her games by relying on a large donation from a mysterious backer. It was the most money ever spent on a tribute until Finnick Odair entered the arena.This year, however, Angelus knows his tribute is not a winner. Not without serious money on his side. But Angelus's mystery backer wants something in exchange for his donation and Haymitch finds himself unwillingly pulled into the games the Careers play.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Thrones, Dominations

Angelus watched as his tribute followed along after District 2's girl, like some lost puppy dog. The kid had no backbone, no initiative or personality. Fortuna may not have been able to hit the broad side of a barn with her spear, but at least she had possessed common sense and was self-aware enough to know that it was her beauty that made her a fan favorite, not her skills. She had played it up in the arena, what with near-constant desire to "bathe" in every stream, brook, or pond she came across, heedless of any mutts that might be lurking beneath the water. Not that they had ever attacked her; the viewers would be mightily upset if the Gamemakers interrupted her peep show.

Fortuna slid into the chair next to him. Her red eyeshadow chosen specifically to cover up the fact that she had been crying. Her tribute hadn't survived the bloodbath. "How's our last, best hope?" She asked.

Angelus waved at the viewing screen. Even from the couch, Angelus could see the fine tremors that wracked through Hadrian's body. He was a scared kid; worse, he _looked_ like a scared kid. District 1 bled money every time he was on screen.

"What about..." Fortuna's voice dropped low, barely above a whisper. "Domitius? Can we ask him to sponsor Hadrian?"

Angelus shook his head. "Already tried. He's not interested."

"Not even if we... sweeten the deal?"

It's how Angelus had managed to bring Fortuna home. She was his very first tribute and he got to keep her. How many other Victors could say that?

"Domitius doesn't care about us anymore. We're old news." Angelus forced out a dry, bitter laugh. Domitius Hayda was well-known among the Victors. Obscenely wealthy and a notorious pervert. He had made it his mission to "collect" each and every Victor. When Angelus won, Domitius had gifted him a gold watch and an invitation to dinner.

Angelus had declined, knowing that he had only one shot with Domitius. Better to save it in case he needed something in exchange. And he had: Fortuna. Domitius had donated an exorbitant amount of money, the likes of which had never been seen in the history of the Hunger Games. All it had cost the two of them was a single night, indulging in every fantasy Domitius could think of.

"He's collected every Victor still alive," Fortuna huffed, crossing her arms. "Might as well indulge in some old favorites, right? And I think we could count among his favorites." She flicked her long, blonde hair over shoulder.

"Well," Angelus said with a sly, vicious grin. "Not _every_ Victor." He jerked his head at the man nursing a glass of whiskey across the room.

Fortuna looked, her eyes widening, before ducking back and whispering, "Isn't that Abernathy?"

"Yep."

"And he's never... But why not? What's he got to lose? He might even be able to bring home a tribute if he went through it."

Angelus leaned forward. Brutus had told him the story of Haymitch Abernathy the same way one might tell a ghost story around a fire. "Haymitch has always been too clever for his own good. He was obstinate and mouthy. So the Capitol had his entire family killed. He's refused to play the part of a good little Victor ever since. It's not like the Capitol can force him. Not now they've murdered their collateral."

Fortuna frowned. "Poor man."

Angelus looked back at Haymitch. He wasn't bad looking, on the wrong side of scruffy maybe, but clean him up and he might even be called handsome. How old was he now? Angelus hadn't been more than two or three during the Quarter Quell, making Haymitch what? Thirty? Thirty-five at most?

Both of his tributes had died in the first ten minutes of the Games. District 12 was a non-entity in the backstage games the mentors played. Neither a threat or a potential ally. Merely cannon fodder. Sometimes, he might get a tribute to make it to the 12 hour mark. That was the best Haymitch could expect.

So, Haymitch drank the days away until the train came to take him home.

_What would Domitius give to complete his collection?_

Haymitch wouldn't agree to it willingly. He wouldn't suck a cock to save his own tributes, much less one from District 1. But then, Domitius didn't require his partners to be _willing_. "I'll be back, I have a phone call to make," Angelus said. He left before Fortuna could question his sudden change in mood.

District 1's floor was on the ground level. In no time at all he entered the apartment and picked up the telephone, waving away the Avox as she came to offer a glass of champagne.

"This is Angelus Steel," he said the moment Domitius's secretary picked up the phone. "I need to speak with Mr. Hayda."

"One moment, please."

The one moment turned into fifteen minutes before Domitius finally bothered to pick up. He let out a beleaguered sigh as he answered, "Mr. Steel, I have already informed you that I have no desire to continue our relationship--"

"I can provide you with something you desperately want."

"Oh?" He sounded interested despite himself. "And what may that be?"

"A complete collection."

Silence.

And then...

"Mr. Abernathy will agree to meet with me?"

"Oh, no, but I can get him alone. What you do after that is up to you."

"Then we have an arrangement. I will transfer half the money now, half after the deed is done."

Angelus quickly agreed and as soon as the line went dead he was off. He needed to get Domitius a press badge so he could enter the Games Building. He needed give Fortuna directions on what to do when the money came in.

He needed to set the bait for Haymitch.

* * *

The new kids from District 1 were hovering near him, looking nervous. Haymitch opened one bleary eye at them. "Whaddyawant," he managed to slur.

The boy stepped forward. How brave. "Chaff isn't doing too good and we can't find Seeder," he said.

Haymitch groaned. He'd been expecting this ever since his girl got de-gloved the day before, if he was honest. "Where is he?" Haymitch asked as he pulled himself up. He had to grab onto the back of the couch to steady himself.

"The downstairs lounge, next to--"

"I know where it is," Haymitch snapped. Hardly anyone used it; too old-fashioned for Capitol tastes but a good place to go if you didn't want anyone to see you cry in your drink.

The boy reached out to help him, but Haymitch waved him off. The girl shrugged and went back to tracking 1's last living tribute. The boy kept watching him though. Maybe to make sure he didn't fall on his face as he stumbled to the elevator.

He rested his forehead against the cool metal as the doors slammed shut with a cheerful _ding!_ He let himself drift. The elevator was too well designed for Haymitch to feel it descend, but the alcohol was supplying the motion anyway. When the doors re-opened, Haymitch pulled himself up and stepped off into the lounge.

It was dark. He didn't see Chaff. He did see a strange man in a nice suit sitting at the bar.

"Good evening, Mr. Abernathy," the man said. "Care to join me?"

Haymitch could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Not particularly," he drawled. The man's skin was stretched too tight; vain enough for plastic surgery, and yet he hadn't bothered to dye his hair. Haymitch could see his temples were gray even in the dim light of the lounge.

"Please, don't go," the man called out as Haymitch inched back toward the elevator. "Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Domitius Hayda."

Haymitch knew that name. He slammed on the button to call back the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. A fist swung out of the darkness and Haymitch was too slow, too drunk, to react. It collided into his temple and the floor swung upward to greet him as he landed face first on the tile.

Two pairs of hands picked him up and half-dragged him to a velvet couch tucked into some dark, dusty corner.

Domitius sighed as he loosened his tie and undid his cufflinks. "Not quite the scrappy little fighter you were fifteen years ago."

"Fuck you!"

Domitius ignored him. "Although I suppose there is something about the long wait. And you've certainly held out the longest."

A jacket landed on the couch beside him. Haymitch struggled against the hands holding him down, cursing and spitting. He felt Domitius lean in close and whisper next to his ear, "I do like your spirit. It reminds me of how you were during your Games. Tell me, how did it feel when that little girl thrust her knife into your gut?"

Haymitch sucked in a breath as he felt the cold steel of a knife rest against his hip. He heard his trousers rip and there was Domitius's hands, touching him. "How much had it hurt?" He continued. "Is there still a scar?"

The hand came around to his stomach, made smooth again by Capitol doctors.

"A pity. But then again I can always make my own."

* * *

"What happened to you?" Chaff demanded when he saw him on the platform.

Haymitch's eye had swollen shut and there were finger-shaped bruises around his neck. "Had too much to drink," he grasped.

"And what? Picked a fight with Brutus?"

Haymitch ignored him. The little prick from District 1 had just shown up, guiding his newly-made Victor up the train. Hadrian or whatever his name was. Haymitch turned around and headed toward the end of the platform.

Angelus spotted him. He left Hadrian in Fortuna's hands and ran after the man. "Hey!" He called out and then, much quieter now that it looked like Haymitch had stopped running. "Look, I'm sorry, but Hadrian needed all the help he could get. It's the Games, you know?"

"Yeah," Haymitch sneered as he turned around to face the boy. "You're a real pro."

Angelus reeled back, his beautiful, innocent face flushing in anger. "If you weren't such a selfish prick and had just given in earlier, you might have brought home your own tribute by now," Angelus snapped. "Domitius could have helped you, if you had let him. You've only got yourself to blame."

The worst part of it was, Haymitch wasn't so sure he was wrong. He glanced at Fortuna and Hadrian. The kid had brought home two tributes in a row, and he hadn't even had to sell his own skin to do it the second time. Just Haymitch's, for whatever it was worth.

Hadrian. That was what Haymitch was worth. Hadrian. A scared, little rabbit who somehow had the good luck to stay alive.

And what did Haymitch have to show for it? Not a damn thing.

"Fuck _off_ ," Haymitch growled and pushed past the kid to get onto the train. He made a beeline for the lounge car. He intended to be good and drunk by the time he made it home.


End file.
